


Youngling in the Temple

by Seasider



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequels Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Movie: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, canon violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seasider/pseuds/Seasider
Summary: What the title says.
Kudos: 7





	Youngling in the Temple

Something is wrong. Very wrong. I hear people shouting. I look at Atpka and she looks at me. What is it? What’s happening? The Temple is vibrating, and the walls are shaking like they’re going to fall down. I look outside and the city looks fine. There are lights and regular traffic in the sky. But inside the Temple I hear terrible sounds— screams and— is that blaster fire? I run into the main hall and see troopers— they’re our friends, but what are they doing? They’re shooting! Why are they shooting? The Masters are swinging their lightsabers and knocking down the troopers, but the troopers are hitting the Masters and Masters are falling.

I run back into the Chamber. “Hide! Everybody, hide! Something’s wrong!”

There’s fighting. So much fighting. I didn’t know there could be so much fighting at one time. Yelling and screaming. We need to help the Masters, but I only have my practice saber— that’s all any of us have, and some of the younger ones don’t even have that. I crouch behind a chair. I don’t know what to do. Atpka is behind the next chair, looking scared. “It’ll be okay,” I tell her. “Someone will come for us. They’ll remember we’re here. They’ll save us.”

But it sounds like the Masters can’t even save themselves because there’s more and more blaster fire, and now there’s smoke. There’s a fire somewhere. What could be on fire? And big crashing sounds— like the statues are tipping over. The walls shake even more. This is our home— our  _ home!  _ The Masters are dying, I  _ feel _ them dying— our home is dying! Where will we go, where will we live? I hear fighting all around us, and there's no way to get out. Atpka is crying.

After a long time, the sounds get less and less. Not as much blaster noise. But I can still hear the marching. It’s so loud I cover my ears. Troopers. How many are there? It sounds like millions. Are they coming closer? Not so many lightsabers are humming any more. Did the Masters leave us behind? Or….

The Masters aren’t dead. No, they can’t be— they’re Jedi! They  _ win— _ they always win! Why do the troopers hate us all of a sudden? They’re our friends. They fight  _ with _ us! They don’t  _ kill _ us!

Someone is coming. Footsteps. Just one person. Not troopers. I try to rise from behind the chair, but Atpka grabs my shirt and pulls me down. I tug free and look. It’s Master Skywalker! We’re saved!

The Masters are here to save us! I have to help. I stand up and rush to him and the others come slowly from behind the chairs. I look up and up— he’s so tall! I’ll be that tall someday. He’ll save us. But how? We have to help him. Or maybe we have to run away. Maybe he’ll take us to a new home and then we can grow up and come back and save the Temple.

“Master Skywalker! There are too many of them. What are we going to do?”

Master Skywalker ignites his lightsaber. Blue light shines in my face. It startles me for just a second, then I’m scared for another reason— he’s going to leave us here and try to fight them alone! I want to go with him! I throw my arms around his leg as tight as I can, holding on as he whirls in a circle, and when he stops—

The other younglings are lying down. Why are they lying down? “Aptka— get up! You have to get up and fight!” I let go of the Master’s knee and look up at him.

“Master Skywalker?”

He stares directly at me. He always looks right at us. He never ignores us or talks to us like we’re babies. He says in a hard voice that doesn’t sound like him: “I am  _ not _ a Master!” and the blue light moves and—

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, that’s the end. The result of another hot summer quarantined masked Sunday afternoon.


End file.
